Funeral
by ZeroVX
Summary: She didn't want to hate the colour black, but all she could think of was that that was what you wore to a funeral. Loosely connected to Errors in Continuity. One-shot.


Hi.

So, I literally came up with this idea today, and I wanted to get it out there as soon as possible. Maybe it'll help me get back into the swing of things when it comes to writing, maybe not. We'll have to see.

More than anything else, this quick little one-shot is for a friend of mine and a constant reader of my work. I hope she doesn't mind me using her concept for this, but I'd like to think it'd cheer her up a bit. If she's reading this now…well, you know who you are.

And yes, you can sort of tie this into Errors in Continuity if you so choose.

Let's go.

/

She couldn't remember how she was back there. She couldn't recall what steps she took, where she went, who came with her, any of it.

The how, the where, the who, what, and when were all lost to her. None of it mattered to her.

All that mattered was the why. She knew why she was there.

That church. That oh-so-dreaded church.

If she hadn't stepped into that church so long ago, how different would her life be? Maybe she would've just moved on to creating a Death Scythe. Maybe she would've just fought in the war against the witches. Maybe she could've prevented the rising of the Kishin.

But she knew one thing above all else. If she hadn't stepped into that church, she wouldn't have met him.

She didn't regret her choice one bit.

And now, here she was, back in front of it all over again. Everything had spiraled out of control to the point that there was no going back. She knew, deep in her heart, that this was it.

Once again, she was going to enter that church. Once again, her life was going to change forever.

She raised her hand to open the door. Before she could make contact, they swung open, almost of their own will.

The doors swung inward, of course. They always swung inward.

As they took what felt like an eternity to open, she could see him. Standing in the center of the church, like he had so long ago. Facing away from her, staring up at the stained glass window that shone coloured light onto him.

She had finally found him.

And already she knew that something was wrong.

That first time, all that time ago, he was silent. He turned to look at her, as though he never expected to see her.

This time, however, he was singing.

"_I look inside myself and see my heart is black._

_I see my red door and it has been painted black._

_Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts._

_It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black._"

She hated that song.

He had heard it once when he was visiting, on the radio. She remembered how he stood there, transfixed by the lyrics, the melody, how each note and tune seemed to hypnotize him.

She had expected him to make some sort of comment when it was over, but instead he said nothing.

She had hated that song ever since.

Without even meaning to, she started to walk forward, closer to him. She wanted to touch him, to hold him, to confirm that her fears were all for nothing. That it was all OK. That _he_ was OK.

Then, he stopped. He slowly turned to look at her.

He grew quiet, staring at her. She knew that he recognized her. There was a small light of recognition in his eyes.

For a second, she was happy. It was all OK.

Then, he smiled.

Not the wide, mad smile that he used when the Madness took him, but the small, genuine smile that he seemed to reserve just for her.

She remembered the first time she ever saw that smile. It was at the party that Kid threw for him. The one to truly welcome him into Death City. When he realized that everyone was there for him, and was willing to become his friend, he showed that smile for the first time in his life. That tiny upturning of his lips told her so much, showed so much pure joy that he had never felt before.

She decided, right then and there, that she would make him smile more. That she would make him happy. If anyone in the world deserved to be happy, in her mind, it was him.

This time, however, it was different.

Whenever she saw that smile, her heart would swell, knowing that she had succeeded in giving him the happiness she wanted to give him so badly.

But this time, her heart shattered into pieces.

Because she knew, deep down, she would never see that smile again.

Then, darkness.

Pure, inky black darkness erupted from his body, pouring out of every orifice on him. His mouth was wide open, as though he was screaming his horrid scream, but no noise came out. He writhed, he twisted, he stretched, as though he was expelling every bit of black that his body carried.

She opened her mouth to speak, to say something, anything, that could bring him back. Back to her, back to where he was safe, where he was happy.

No sound left her lips.

She could only stand there, horrified as the one she cared about so deeply died in front of her.

The blackness surrounded his body, changing and shifting, giving him a new form to call his own. Wings grew from his back, like she had seen him do before. Except these wings were larger, wider, and completely different from what she had seen. They actually had feathers, with a single eye in the center of each of them.

Two smaller wings grew out of the sides of his head, feathered and black like the ones that had just appeared. What purpose they served was unknown to her, if they even had a purpose at all.

His robe seemed to extend, moving down his body and obscuring his feet. It seemed to go on forever, to the point where she couldn't tell where the robe ended and the pool of darkness that resided underneath him began.

The blackness stopped moving, its job complete. He lowered his head, his mouth closed again.

He stared at her, his eyes no longer carrying the same spark of joy in them. The eyes themselves seemed to be lifeless, just orbs of emptiness that were now locked onto her form.

She knew, then and there, that it was over.

Crona Makenshi was dead.

And in his place was something else entirely.

The being then smiled at her, smiled at her with Crona's face, but it was a different smile than before. It seemed to be amused by her presence, like a child would be amused by the presence of a pet.

"Well…hello Maka."

She didn't move, didn't respond, only barely registering that it had spoken her name. She couldn't stop looking at him, couldn't stop looking at the face that belonged to the one she held so close. The face that wasn't his anymore.

"What's the matter?" it asked her. "Aren't you happy to see me? It's been so long since I've seen you…almost a year, hasn't it?"

Had it been a year? She couldn't remember. It felt like so much longer than that.

The being spread his arms, as if welcoming her.

"Please, come closer. Let me see you again."

Every part of her knew it was a trap. Every part of her being knew she couldn't listen. She had to run, to fight, to do anything but listen to him.

But it was out of her control now.

She walked forward, not too fast and not too slow, just moving closer and closer to this creature that had taken Crona's place.

It smiled that smile of his again.

"Yes. That's right. Come to me. No need to be shy."

It spoke in a condescending tone, as though it was speaking to a baby. And perhaps, from its perspective, that's all she was.

She was within arms reach of it now.

She felt its hands gently clasp her face, raising her head up to get a better look at her.

It seemed to tower over her. Crona had always been taller than her, but this creature was like a giant compared to him. And at the same time, it seemed no different than how Crona would just slightly look down at her when speaking to her.

It smiled its amused smile once again, that strange smile that she loved and hated all at once.

"You haven't changed at all."

And he had changed too much.

She shook, staring up at his face, the face that seemed so wrong now, the face that she longed to see and now could only looked at a warped, perverted version of it.

"My, my…such fear coming from you, Maka…"

It stared down at her. She noticed that his eyes were different. That the calm blue that she was so familiar with was now a darker shade. As though the inky blackness had invaded every part of his being.

"But it's not fear of me…it's fear for what you did…or rather, what you didn't do."

She opened her mouth again to say something, to beg, to plead, to voice her desire to bring him back home, back where he could be safe and happy with her once again.

Still no sound.

She couldn't move her body. She couldn't move closer, she couldn't turn and run, she couldn't get help.

There was only one thing she could do.

She cried.

The tears slowly fell down her face as she gave quiet, shaky sobs. She didn't turn away from him. She couldn't turn away from him. All she could do was stare at his face, her eyes blurring from the tears.

"And with that fear, comes regret…you understand, don't you? You know what I have to say to you."

She did. For she knew it already. She knew it as soon as she walked into the building.

"You failed, Maka. You didn't make it in time. You couldn't save me."

It was all true. She was too late.

If she had been of the right state of mind, she would've racked her brains for an explanation. How did she fail? What did she do wrong? Did she take too long to find him? Did she not focus enough on his return?

But none of that mattered. All that mattered was that she had failed.

So she continued to cry.

It gently shushed her, wiping the tears from her face. Again, like it was talking to a mere baby.

"Now, now, Maka…there's no need to cry…it's alright. This was going to happen no matter what. …would you like to know why? Would you like to know why you failed?"

She couldn't respond. She knew, no matter what she said, the answer would come anyway.

"It's because you never really believed in me. You, like everyone else, thought I would fail. That I would break at any given minute. That's why you fought so hard to change me, so that you wouldn't have to admit that you didn't trust me."

It smiled its foreign smile again.

"Those side glances that you would give, as though I would snap if you didn't keep an eye on me…did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Was he right? Had she not trusted him enough? Had some part of her doubted that he would survive, just like all the others did?

She wasn't sure if even mattered now.

It extended its wings, the eyes now gazing at her with it.

"It's alright, Maka. This doesn't change anything. I still care for you. I still love you."

It was his voice that spoke those last words. She had dreamt about him saying those words to her.

But now it was all wrong.

"That's why you're going to be the first. You'll be the first one to join me in the darkness, forever. And that way, you won't have to see what will happen to the world that you fought so hard to protect."

She could see the darkness start to creep out from behind him, circling around him and her, starting to entrap them both.

It moved closer to her face. She could feel its breath hit her as their noses came within millimeters of touching.

"It's alright, Maka. Just take a deep breath, and close your eyes. It will all be over soon."

She searched for some bit of courage, of hope, of something that would help her fight back. Something that could help her change this.

She found nothing.

So, she gave in. Her eyes slowly closed, and she saw the being's face no more.

She could feel the darkness closing in around her, squeezing around her, the pressure gently tightening around her body. And while she could no longer see its face, she could hear its voice.

"I will grant you one more thing. You will be the first to hear my name."

The darkness was starting to crush her.

"I am the Dark Silent One. The Old Night. The one of infinite blackness."

It was starting to consume her, eating away at everything that she was. At her very being.

"Zushakon."

/

Maka's eyes snapped open, blinking furiously in the hopes that she could see something besides pure black.

She could see the wall of her room, the pink wallpaper, the window that showed the grinning moon, the bedside dresser beside her.

She rolled over, looking at the other side of her room.

Everything was as she left it.

It had just been a dream.

Almost immediately she rolled back over and got out of bed, quickly stepping away from it and heading out her bedroom door.

She saw him as she entered the living room.

He lay there, sound asleep on her couch, exactly as she left him. He had come to visit her again when Soul left for yet another Death Scythe mission, and she was all too happy to have him over.

She walked over to him, kneeling down beside him, silently watching him.

She listened to him breathing slowly and quietly, completely oblivious to her presence. His face was a peaceful one, one of the rare times he seemed to not be worried about something.

She wondered what she should do. She wanted to touch him, to hold him, to confirm that her fears were for nothing. But why wake him for something as silly as that? He needed his peace. He deserved his peace.

Before she could think about it for too long, the decision was made for her.

He gave a small hum, his mouth closing. His eyes slowly opened to see her there.

She looked into his eyes as he sat up, surprised at her presence. They were that same calm, icy blue that she was so familiar with.

"M-Maka…?" Crona whispered, still slightly groggy from his sleep. "W-What's the matter…?"

His manner of speaking, his posture, his gestures. They were all him.

It was him. Not some foul demon taking his form, but really, truly him.

She quickly closed the gap, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder, catching him completely off-guard. He didn't say anything else, didn't even give out another stutter or stammer. Instead he just sat there, his arms hovering in mid-air as she squeezed him as tightly as she could.

They stayed that way for a few agonizingly long moments, before Crona finally moved his arms around behind her back, pulling her close. Finally, she could start to calm down.

"I'm sorry…" she muttered into his shoulder. "I'm…I'm being so stupid…over just a dumb dream…"

She could feel Crona squeeze her a little tighter, as though trying to comfort her.

"…I…I have bad dreams all the time, Maka…" he whispered. "But…you always told me that they don't matter…they aren't real…right?"

"Yeah…yeah, I know…"

If the situation was any different, she probably would've focused on the embrace itself. On how Crona would pull her as close to him as possible. How he would hang on to her, as though he never wanted to let her go. As if as though, if he let her go, they'd never hold each other again.

Or maybe she would've focused on how strange it was for the roles to be reversed. How she was the one being comforted by him, when it was usually the other way around. Maybe she would've thought about how nice that was, how wonderful it felt to be in his arms and actually feel safe.

Instead, she focused on what he was telling her. It wasn't real. He wasn't at the church, he hadn't run away again. He was here. Here, right now, holding her and being held by her.

Maybe, in some other place, for some other Maka, things had been different. Maybe that Maka had failed, maybe that world was doomed to chaos and Madness.

But it wasn't this one. In this one, Crona was safe and with her.

That was all that mattered.

Without even stopping to think about it, she moved one of her hands from his back and trailed it along his side, stopping on his chest. She heard him give a small gasp while she did so, her head still resting on his shoulder.

She closed her eyes as she gently pressed her hand on his chest, right above his heart. She could feel the small th-thump of his heartbeat against her hand, savoring every beat.

She then pulled back slightly to look at his face, and could see that he was blushing. She smiled despite herself. She loved how easy it was to make him blush. How even her slightest word or movement could add some colour to his pale cheeks.

She gazed up at him and had to force herself not to sound pleading when she spoke.

"Let me in."

Crona stared back at her, instantly understanding what she meant. He carefully moved one of his hands off of her back, placing it gently on the hand on his chest.

"OK."

The both of them closed their eyes, their foreheads instinctively meeting. They could both feel their souls resonating with one another in the only way theirs could.

She reveled in the warmth that came only from when her soul met his. Finally, she was completely at peace.

That Maka had let her Crona go. She wouldn't do the same.

She was never going to let him go. Not ever again.

/

Lyrics are from "Paint it Black" by The Rolling Stones.


End file.
